


Hop to It

by himawaridreams



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Online Dating, Crack Treated Seriously, F/F, Tinder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 05:19:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19222405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/himawaridreams/pseuds/himawaridreams
Summary: As if business trips weren't already stressful enough, an unexpected guest cranks Cheadle's stress dial up to maximum.





	Hop to It

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! I initially wrote this fanfiction as a joke the past winter, and as you can see... it got out of hand. Not sure if I'm going to be continuing this or not, but I just wanted to release this crack fic of mine out into the world. What better way for hijinks to ensue than forcing one of my favorite HxH characters, Cheadle, to have a Tinder account? ;^)
> 
> A special thanks to the HxH fandom on Tumblr for inspiring me to write this fic. You guys are goldmines when it comes to funny content... and for that, I am forever grateful. :'^) (PARISTON OR GING DO NOT INTERACT)

Did you ever have those days where you felt like something was... horribly amiss? Cheadle was currently having one of those days. It all started when she received an urgent phone call from Beans, filling her in about the latest office mishap.

“--so the new hire took the stack of paperwork I handed them, giving me the impression that they were dependable, and then completely  _crushed_ my expectations by tripping on  _air_  and tumbling to the floor. There were papers flying everywhere, Cheadle! You should have been there-- the office was engulfed in a typhoon of paperwork!”

Cheadle, running low on sleep from pulling multiple all-nighters that week, muffled a yawn as his account continued, rocking back and forth in an attempt to stay awake. She peered out the window of her hotel room to see the industrial backdrop of the city being lit up by the sunrise. Even though the city was soon to be bustling with activity, all Cheadle wanted to do was faceplant into a warm, welcoming mattress. The fluffy pillow top bed the hotel offered would more than suffice.

“Um, Cheadle? Are you there?” Beans asked, clearly concerned. 

Remembering that she was still on the line with someone, she hurriedly replied, “Yes, I’m still here. It sounds like you have quite the handful at work now... perhaps a vacation is in order?”

“A vacation!?” he shrieked, but coughed in a transparent cover-up, regaining his composure. “I would love to, but there’s already too much on my plate at the office already... and I certainly  _don’t_ trust that new hire to go unattended in my absence.”

Humming, Cheadle leaned back in the stiff-backed chair the hotel provided their guests with, wishing more than ever to be burrowed under some blankets. 

“I don’t blame you for thinking that way. If it were me, I wouldn’t want to leave them on their own, either.”

“I knew that you would understand!” Beans cheered, triumphant. His tone then shifted to a significantly more serious tone, as if he were broaching a touchy topic. “On another note... there is something else that I have to inform you of.”

Sensing the change in atmosphere, Cheadle bristled defensively. “What is it?”

“Well... you’re not going to like this, but Pariston is back in town.”

Pariston was back in town.  _Lovely._ Out of all the days he could come back to cause mischief, it was when the keeper of law and order was not present. Why didn’t she expect this outcome?

“Oh.” was all she said, too tired to articulate any further or make a sardonic comment. “Send him my regards, then.”

“Wait! I haven’t finished explaining everything!”

Resisting the urge to groan, Cheadle clenched her eyes shut and hoped against hope that her mental fortitude would be enough to banish an oncoming migraine.

“What did that insufferable idiot do now? I’m not really sure I want to know, though.”

There was a considerable pause at the other end of the line, long enough to make her wonder if the call dropped. That was quickly proven wrong, however, when Beans began to speak again, albeit a little timider, “He didn’t do anything  _wrong,_ per se... it’s just... how do I say this? He wanted me to ask you something in his place.”

“ _Me?_ What was so important that he doesn’t even have the balls to ask me himself?”

Realizing that she blurted out something that was out of character for her, she cleared her throat. “Sorry for the frankness, Beans-- it’s just that I’m running low on sleep.”

Beans chuckled, his good-natured attitude still shining through. “Don’t worry about it. Actually, if I may be so bold... it’s kind of refreshing to hear this side of you, Cheadle.”

“Well, you better enjoy it while you can then, because this is a once-in-a-lifetime event,” she joked.

“Oh, all right... anyways, back to the topic at hand. What Pariston wanted me to ask you was--”

_Silence._

Holding her phone away from her head, Cheadle squinted at the screen and noticed in sheer exasperation that the call dropped. Great, just great. She shouldn’t have wondered if the call dropped earlier; that must have jinxed her spectacularly. 

“Well, at least my battery is still fully charged. Beans should call me back any second no--”

A jolly jingle came from her phone as the manufacturer’s logo flashed across the display, notifying her that her phone was, in fact, not fully charged. She cursed internally at how abysmal her luck this morning had been. Not wearing her glasses may have contributed to not knowing the truth about her battery’s charge, but that gnawing feeling in her gut that something was amiss still hadn’t faded. Cheadle wasn’t usually one to be superstitious, yet something about today had her on edge.

Sighing, she crossed the room to retrieve her charger from her modest suitcase, unzipping the top flap and promptly rummaging through her belongings. Clothes, no... toiletries, no... research material, no... novels of dubious content-- wait. That didn’t need to be mentioned. What was really weighing the most heavily on her mind was...

“Where in the world is my charger!?”

At that very moment, there was a knock at the door. It wasn’t just any old knock of a passing guest or harried housekeeper, no-- it was a knock that she knew infuriatingly well. That particular pattern belonged to none other than  _him_. 

Throwing common sense to the wind, Cheadle let rage overtake her and marched over to the door, flinging it open. Just as she suspected, Pariston was standing right there, in all of his overwhelming ugliness. It took every ounce of willpower she had to resist the urge to gag.

“Pariston!” she yelled, clenching her fists.

Pariston waved cheerfully. “Long time no see, Cheadle! How is life treating you?” 

“Awful, now that you’re here! I don’t know why you have decided to grace me with your putrid presence, but I’m not interested in whatever business you have with me. Goodbye!” 

Her morning was already going bad enough, she didn’t need him to worsen it further. While she did admit that Beans’ message about Pariston wanting to tell her something had piqued her curiosity, she wasn’t exactly vying to play into his hands. Nothing of Pariston was to be trusted. She would  _never_  budge on that stance.

Sticking a foot in the door before she could slam it, Pariston smiled warmly at her, causing a chill to run down her spine.

“There’s no need to be so guarded around me, Cheadle... After all, we’re colleagues, aren’t we?”

“In name only.” Cheadle spat, scrunching up her nose. 

Shrugging, he leaned closer to her, his smile growing even wider. Cheadle shrunk back, bracing herself to utilize defensive protocols (a devastating knee to the groin) if necessary. 

“I’m warning you, Pariston, I’m no stranger to resorting to violence. This is your last chance to leave.”

“What if I told you I had a proposal that you can’t deny?”

On cue, Pariston dangled her missing charger by the cord in front of her, smugness rolling off him in waves. He swung it side-to-side like a metronome, mesmerizing her momentarily before she came to her senses. 

“Okay, Pariston, I’ll bite: why did you abduct my charger and then show up to my hotel room unannounced? I’m  _dying_ to know.” she deadpanned, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. 

“Every single one of your questions will be answered shortly, my dear doggy.” Pariston reassured her, seemingly oblivious to the landmine he just stepped on with that nickname, “Why don’t you invite me inside first?”

As much as she loathed to associate with this absolute  _rat bastard_ , he  _was_ holding her charger hostage. The rational part of her brain screamed at her that she could always buy another charger, yet something stunk about this suspicious situation. She needed to investigate this thoroughly... even if it meant losing more precious hours of sleep.

“Fine. Come inside, but if you try anything funny, I’ll have you flying out the window in a heartbeat. You won’t look so attractive as a splatter on the pavement below, hmm?”

The smile that Pariston gave her at this comment was blinding. “Oh? You think that I’m attractive, Cheadle? I’m flattered.”

Cheadle snorted derisively. “You misunderstand. The sole  _creature_ that you would appear attractive to would be the vultures devouring your remains.”

“Your tongue is as sharp as ever, I see.” he noted, crossing the threshold into the hotel room, the captive charger continuing to hang perilously from his fingers.

The two took their respective seats-- Pariston on the worn recliner in the corner of the room and Cheadle on the stiff-backed chair-- and recommenced glaring daggers at each other. Well, the latter half wasn’t entirely true; it was more accurate to say that Cheadle was the only one making a living pincushion out of the other with their gaze. 

“Well? Are you planning on spitting out your reason for barging in here, or are you just going to sit and admire the interior decor for the remainder of the morning?”

His eyes flitted back over to meet hers, a mischievous glint reflecting in his irises. Licking his lips, he replied, “No, you’re gravely mistaken-- it’s not that I’m admiring the interior decor, but rather avoiding making eye contact with the charming centerpiece.”

“Spare me the theatrics. If you wanted someone to flirt with, I’m not your girl. You’d have better luck copulating with Ging than with me.”

Not even flinching from being dressed down, Pariston crossed his legs, sinking back into the recliner. Without providing Cheadle with an opportunity to prepare herself, he tossed her charger to her, which she caught with little effort. That hardly compared in magnitude for the impending bombshell he was about to drop on her, however. 

“I know that you’re a very busy person, so I’ll cut to the chase: your Tinder account has regretfully been compromised.”

Cheadle tensed. “...What?”

Realizing that her reaction was probably suspicious, Cheadle furrowed her eyebrows, glowering at him. 

“Do you really think that I would have time to be active on Tinder, Pariston? That’s a preposterous notion.”

In reality, Cheadle  _did,_ in fact, have a Tinder account. Could you fault her for desiring a deep connection with someone? It was the most basic of basics to know that humans-- well, humanoid species as a whole-- were a communal race.  They lived and prospered through forming bonds with their peers. Although in her case... she found herself wanting something more intimate.

“Of course I do,” Pariston asserted, flashing his pearly whites. “Do you sincerely believe I would falsely accuse someone like this? To prove my point, how about I demonstrate my knowledge?” 

Reaching into the pocket of his  _silly_ beige pinstriped suit, he procured his cellphone, waiting as the camera snapped his photo to identify his face before unlocking the contents. Humming the theme song from a popular soap opera (Days of Our Hunters, was it?), he tapped onto an app and proceeded to proudly present it to Cheadle. 

“Tada! Your very own Tinder profile, last active three nights ago!” 

Fight or flight flipping on, she lunged forward to snatch Pariston’s phone out of his hand, gawking at her authentic profile. Upon further inspection, he wasn’t viewing her profile from his account, no-- he was  _LOGGED INTO HER ACCOUNT_!?

“H... HOW DID YOU ACCESS MY ACCOUNT!?” Cheadle screeched at the top of her lungs, anger and bewilderment overwriting any composure she had left. This could  _NOT_ be happening!

“It’s elementary, dear Cheadle!” he beamed, plucking his phone out of her slack and sweaty hands to resume perusing her account. “I just did a teeny bit of this, a teeny bit of that... I suppose it would be easier to understand by referring to it as ‘hacking!’”

Okay, so Pariston hacked into her account. How  _wonderful_! What else could this narcissistic sleazebag accomplish if he put his mind to it? Cheadle was entirely convinced by now that hacking into a government database would be a cinch for him. What she was to make of that information, she wasn’t sure.

“Wow, to what do I owe the great honor of you hacking into my account? Or rather... what have I done for you to despise me to this degree?”

Shaking his head, Pariston waggled his finger, clicking his tongue lightly. “Tsk, tsk, tsk... You really don’t even grasp the true nature of this situation, do you?”

Cheadle responded with a blank stare and a poker face. Taking this as encouragement for him to continue, Pariston began to gesticulate grandiosely.

“Why, it’s an intervention, of course!” he revealed, acting as if she were supposed to be privy of this from the start, “Anyone knows that having Tinder on your device is an indicator that you are lonely... dreadfully so! Therefore, I have taken it upon myself to be your Cupid and shoot my  _arrow of love_ to pierce your special someone’s heart!”

To emphasize his point, he shaped his thumb and index finger like a gun, pretending to pull the trigger at Cheadle’s heart. “Bam!”

Contrary to Pariston’s intended effect for his “gesture of good will”, she was not feeling very grateful for his meddling in her love life. If anything, she was feeling the onset of a headache coming on.

“Thanks, but no thanks. I am an  _adult,_ and I am perfectly capable of looking after myself. I don’t need you poking your nose in my personal affairs.”

Shrugging, Pariston slipped his phone back into his pocket. “All right, suit yourself!”

Stopping dead in her tracks, a wave of confusion washed over Cheadle, causing her to question his motives. Usually he was more stubborn than this... what was the catch?

“Wait. Is that it? You’re not going to try to persuade me to participate in your wacky scheme?” Cheadle asked in sheer disbelief.

Nodding his head decisively, he levered himself up from the recliner, straightening the hem of his jacket. “Yes, that’s it! Why waste additional seconds of my valuable time trying to move an immovable object? It is with great delight that I announce you’re as insufferable as ever, Cheadle!”

Cheadle scoffed. “Ha! That’s rich coming from your mouth, Pariston.”

Gesturing for the door, she cocked an impatient eyebrow. “If you have no other business with me, go ahead and see yourself out.”

“Gladly,” he replied, his lanky legs carrying him to the exit. Turning the doorknob, he threw a glance over his shoulder, eyes twinkling impishly. “Don’t forget to check your messages later tonight! Tootles!” 

And with that, he was gone.

Heaving a sigh, the extent of Cheadle’s exhaustion made itself evident-- she was hardly able to stay awake! The sleep deprivation from the past few nights and the extra stress from her encounter with the devil in disguise must have helped with her miserable state. She would have to reflect on which deity she angered later to have Pariston knocking at her door like that. But for now, rest was her priority. 

Pushing herself up out of her chair, she sleepily stumbled over to the bed, not even bothering to peel the covers back before she flopped onto the surface. Being enveloped in blankets sounded nice earlier, but what sounded nicer right now was drifting off peacefully. Research could wait, the Tinder fiasco could wait... she just needed a couple hours of sleep. 

With those thoughts twirling around in her mind, she surrendered herself to slumber, forgetting Pariston’s parting words altogether. 

\--

The next time she opened her eyes, the room was shrouded in an eerie darkness, only a sliver of moonlight slicing through the sheer curtains. Her face was pressed up against the scratchy bedspread, a thin layer of sweat coating her cheek. That definitely wasn’t a spot she wanted to be in for long, so she peeled her cheek away from the bedspread, propelling herself into a sitting position by using her elbow as leverage. 

Patting around on the bed for her phone, Cheadle quickly recalled the unfortunate series of events that happened earlier. She rubbed her temples, groaning at the memory. Besides the memory of Pariston wreaking havoc on her life (as per usual), there was another unnerving memory that sprung to the forefront of her mind.

“...What did Pariston mean by telling me to ‘check my messages later tonight’...?”

Compelled by this mystery, she strode to the desk where she had left her phone, grabbing it without a moment’s hesitation. She then grabbed the charger which was lying haphazardly next to it, hurrying to plug her phone into the built-in outlet on the desk lamp. Her phone screen lit up almost instantaneously.

Waiting as her phone cycled through the regular startup sequence-- aka the manufacturer’s logo hogging the display for a good two or three minutes-- she breezed through unlocking her phone, not giving a second thought to the time. Notifications slowly started to pop up, but nothing was particularly conspicuous. The most concerning notification was a missed call or two from Beans; he was probably wondering why she dropped off the face of the planet with nary an explanation. Poor Beans. 

She was just about to dismiss Pariston’s heads up as a predictable prank until... she saw it _._

“...Oh my God.”

There, written in seemingly innocuous white text was a death sentence in her notifications bar. She would have  _never_ in a million years thought this day would come to pass. And yet...

Inhaling sharply through her nose, Cheadle set her phone aside, pacing over to the window. The twinkling lights dotting the city skyline seemed to mock her, imitating the flashing of paparazzi cameras rather than their inoffensive flickering. She felt all of her hairs standing on end. Could she have really been lured like a moth to a flame by Pariston? 

In spite of herself, she could feel the thudding of her heart, composing a discordant harmony that reverberated within her ribcage. How could he have known that she...? 

Overwhelmed by these disconcerting emotions, Cheadle decided that she needed fresh air. Flicking on the vanity light to ensure that she was presentable, she grimaced how aghast she looked in the mirror, flicking off the light. There wouldn’t be many people out this late anyways... hopefully. 

Tucking her room card from the vanity counter into her pocket, she left her phone-- and the maelstrom it brewed inside of her-- behind.

\--

**Tinder**

You’ve got a new match!

**Tinder**

Piyon sent you a message.

**Tinder**

Piyon: woah, fancy meeting you here! woulda never guessed to see you on tinder... guess ms. doggy got tired of waiting for her owner to come home, huh? ;)

Piyon: sike! lmao!!! all jokes aside, you really should hmu sometime, alright?? it’s not nice to keep a girl waiting, okaaaAAAAAY?? hop to it!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Remember that PARIGING RIGHTS do NOT matter! It's CHEAYON RIGHTS all the way, BAYBEE! If you support my CHEAYON CAUSE, please report to the CHEAYON BASE located at Tumblr user ritzyvhasta's blog. Thank you for reading~ :^)


End file.
